


Guns and bullets

by Haaska



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I think it's both Comfort and No Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 20:09:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17773439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haaska/pseuds/Haaska
Summary: The raid on a gun deal does't go as planned.Viktor holds a personal grudge against the Scythes.





	Guns and bullets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WahlBuilder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/gifts).



> [WahlBuilder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder), this one is for you(and because of you), my trashcan comrade.

“Fuck.” 

Anton ignored the swear coming from behind the corner. He also ignored a metallic sound of a standard Colt pistol the Bureau equipped their detectives with, being reloaded  by someone who, guessing by “clank” of two bullets hitting the ground, was rather jumpy at the moment.

He crossed the alley and looked into a barrel. 

“Hands up and two steps back.”

Anton sighed and did as he was told. Of course the young detective wasn't going to shoot without following the protocol.

Even if he just now realized that he was facing a local mob boss whose name was on the top of the Bureau's “top priority” case list.

Anton looked over his shoulder, then back at the agent. Half dozen bodies, scattered around the entrance to the warehouse. 

A bloodbath.

“Are you trained in treating bullet wounds, detective Jeffrey?”

“How do you…”

“Shut up and let me take care of him.”

Jeffrey's jaw twitched. His hands, nose and the front of his vest were covered in blood. One of the sleeves of his white shirt was missing. “I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave, mister Rogalyov. Immediately.”

“He's going to bleed out unless you let me help him.” 

They were staring at each other for a few seconds. Anton, with a bag on his shoulder and his hands still up in the air, trying to look calm _ (he wasn't) _ , and Jeffrey, with his nosebleed and dark circles under his eyes and shaky hands, realizing that he has no choice but to let Anton pass. 

He lowered his Colt and rubbed his eyes before he stepped to the side and waved his hand.  “Go on. No funny business.”

In different circumstances, Anton would've make sure that Viktor's protégé took that comment back. Now, he just shook his head and rushed to the man lying in a puddle of blood, with trigger-happy detective close by his side. 

Viktor was lying on the pavement, pressing a torn out sleeve of Jeffrey's shirt to his bloodied side. Other five... _four_ dead bodies belonged to the Scythes gang, a group just as aggressive and small as now - dead.

Hearing the two, the Colonel pushed himself up with a wince and curled his lip, his gaze fixed on Anton. “I did not expected to see you here, harassing my agents over our personal grudge.” Viktor rasped and surpassed a cough. He looked pale and weak. “You disappoint me, Mister Rogalyov.” 

Anton scoffed and knelt next to Viktor. The comment stung him more than he was comfortable to admit. He dropped the bag on the ground, put a hand on Viktor's shoulder and forced the detective to lie down. Viktor complied without a protest, which was troubling, giving how the detective thought that Anton showed up to finish him off.

“I'm not here to finish someone's job for them, Mister Watcher.” - he barked and took out a flask from his vest pocket. He opened it and poured some alcohol on his hands.”You saved me once. I am here to pay off my debt.”

Anton rubbed his hands together, trying to disinfect them thoroughly. He felt Viktor's gaze boring a hole in his skull, and decided to ignore it, uncertain if he could handle more disappointment showing in his eyes. “We can go back to trying to kill each other after this is over.” He added and started cleaning the skin under his fingernails almost obsessively. A few scratches on his palms itched, and the strong scent of alcohol made his eyes sting. Anton cleared his throat and took the flask again, pouring more alcohol. “So if you please let me do what I'm obliged to do, Mister Watcher, I would…”

Viktor grabbed Anton's hand and squeezed tightly. Anton looked at him, surprised.

“Stop that, Tosha, or I'll break your fingers.” 

Hearing his own name, for the first time from Viktor's lips, Anton froze. 

“And better hurry up if you don't want to waste your opportunity to repay the debt.” Viktor winced and let Anton's hand go. ”The bullet is still inside ” - he said through gritted teeth and coughed weakly. 

Anton tore his gaze away from Viktor's eyes and looked at his side. 

The formerly white sleeve, currently a makeshift bandage was thrown away ( _ does none of the detectives carry even a basic med kit with them? _  - he swore under his breath in his mother tongue), Viktor’s vest has been unbuttoned, and Anton carefully teared a hole in his shirt to take a better look at the wound. It wasn't big, probably made by a .308 caliber bullet, but it seemed to hit close to internal organs.

(It messed up Viktor's tattoo, too. Anton looked at it with fascination; geometrical figures and straight lines, barely visible under blood, deformed now, soon to be permanently marked with a scar. Anton wondered if there were more tattoos on agent's body, more scars.)

“This is going to hurt.” he looked up at Viktor expectantly, and when he saw a nod, Anton turned his attention to Viktor's protégé. The young agent, as pale as his Colonel, looked at both men absentmindedly. His left hand was shaking.

“Jeffrey.” Anton called, and had to repeat himself before Jeff finally woke up from the slumber. “Open my bag, disinfect the foreceps and the needle. And prepare the bandages.”

Jeffrey sniffed, put his pistol in his shoulder holster and followed command.

It only took three minutes to arrange a makeshift surgery. A few minutes more and there would be no one to operate, Anton thought and took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. “Jeffrey. Hold him, please. And cover his mouth. We don't need any more attention right now.” 

Not giving Viktor time to protest, Jeffrey pinned him to the ground and let Anton do the work.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


The surgery went easier once Viktor fainted from pain.

Anton stood up and cleaned his hands in a piece of a rug.

“Jeffrey.” 

“Yes?” 

“Are you in one piece? Not going to faint on me?”

“‘It’s nothing serious.“

Anton looked him up and down and knelt next to Viktor.

“We will have to move him to my safe house. It's not far, but we have to make it fast. I will prepare the Colonel. In the meantime you take this boy...” he nodded his head towards one of the corpses sprawled on the pavement, his dead hand still clutching to his P226 SIG Sauer that failed to save his life. “...close his eyes and move him someplace private, please. And tell me where you moved the body one you're done.”

Anton saw with the corner of his eye that Jeffrey knit his eyebrows together, but said nothing besides a quiet “got it” before he rushed to pick up the dead body. 

Anton was used to mourn in silence.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


They were halfway to the safe house, with still unconscious Viktor being carried between them, when Jeffrey finally spoke.

“Mister Rogalyov. I have a question.”

Anton glanced at him over Viktor’s head. “Ask away.” - he said, even though he already knew what question it will be.

  
“That man you told me to... “ Jeff stopped and bit his lip, all pale. Even in the poor lamp light, Anton could see that Jeff’s pupils were slightly dilated. The detective cleared his throat and tried again. “Is that how you knew? That we will be here, I mean. And in trouble.” 

Anton could ignore the question. He could tell a lie, too, but for some reason, he thought that the young agent deserved to learn some truth.

“Yes, he was one of my own.” 

_ He was working with one of your informants, selling you my rival gangs for two years now, and it was him who lured you there _ , Anton thought.  _ His death is my fault.   _

“He was supposed to run away before your Bureau would send their agents. But I've been… observing your Colonel. And I knew he would interfere with the Scythes. I reacted a little too late, as you saw.”

Jeff gave no reply, and when Anton looked at him, he saw that absent, numb expression on his face again.

 

 

* * *

  
  


 

They entered the safe house and put Viktor in bed. He was still in a bad shape, but it looked like he was going to make it. Anton left the door to the bedroom wide open and moved to the kitchen. 

He fished his cigarette case out of his vest pocket and put a smoke between his lips. He started searching for a lighter when Jeffrey approached him with a silver Zippo.

Anton took a drag, held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds and exhaled slowly. The aroma of cherry tobacco dominated the stench of blood and sweat.

Jeffrey hid his lighter, rolled his shoulder and winced. 

Still with a cigarette in his mouth, Anton reached for his bag, lying on the table. “Take off your shirt.”

“Excuse me?”

“I see you can barely move your hand, and you can't really hide that blood stain on your back.”

“I can take care of that myself. We should focus on the Colonel.”

“No.  _ You _ should focus on your Colonel. And he needs you in a good shape.” 

Jeffrey thought for a few seconds before he nodded and started unbuttoning his vest and a shirt. 

Anton pulled two chairs from under the table and placed them in the centre of the kitchen. He threw his cigarette into the sink, washed his hands and took a bottle of alcohol from one of the lockers. The sewing needle has been disinfected, bandages were put on the table. Anton washed his hands again, this time using alcohol. 

Jeffrey sat in the chair backwards and placed his hands on the back of the chair. His left shoulder blade was badly bruised and had a nasty cut. It looked like the agent was thrown with his back against something sharp. 

There was a single tattoo on his second shoulder blade. A weird choice, surely with a meaning Anton was not familiar with. He knew the symbol being a part of the tattoo - the infamous crest of Aurora, but this one had a lightning cutting through the middle of it, and one horizontal line crossing it at the bottom.

Anton made a mental note to do a research on this tattoo. He sat on the second chair and started cleaning Jeff’s back from blood. Agent’s body was so tense he felt like touching a mannequin.

A few moments passed. Jeffrey kept calm, even when Anton had to take our a few grains of sand from his wound. Anton took the needle and started stitching the cut.

“Why did you helped us?”

_ “Because you might not be a lost cause. And because Viktor might be.”-  _ Anton thought, and decided to stick to more believable version. “I will need you, both of you, to help me with something.”

Jeffrey fell silent, again, rested his chin on his forearm and covered his eyes with his free hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Killing your man.” 

Anton could've said that he forgives him. That it was just self-defense, that it was either him or Jeff, and no one could blame him for grasping at life.

But it was one of his own that the agent killed, so Anton said none of it.

Jeffrey hissed when Anton stung him with needle a bit too hard. He murmured an apology and sighed. 

“How many did you killed?” He tried to keep his voice down, as some sensitive matters needed to be treated carefully.

The following silence was heavy. Jeffrey’s whole body was tense before, but now, his muscles were stiff as a steel.

“Four. Two today.”

“How are you holding up?”

Jeff kept silent for a while. And then he laughed desperately, his face still hidden in his hand.

“I can't believe that of all people, you're the only one asking me that question.”

“Whatever you think the Bureau might give you, family is not one of these things.” 

“You asked me how I feel, but _ you _ are not my family either.” Jeff sounded bitter. He was shaking slightly, and if Anton had to guess, he would say that Jeff was at the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“No one is.” he snapped. “You have no one. Just as I had no one.” He finished his work and put the needle down. “And yet, I have found my family. Maybe you should find your own.”

 

He left the kitchen and entered one of the empty rooms. He took another cigarette, but couldn't find the lighter, so he threw the cigarette out through the open window.

Both of the agents were alone. Creating bonds was considered a vulnerability in the eyes of the Bureau, and the Bureau always made sure to make her agents fully dependent of her guidance. Unsurprisingly, most of the agent she picked had no family, no close friends. Many bad things happened to agents' loved ones.

Anton needed to to get some fresh air. He grabbed a jacket from wardrobe and froze.

The creaking floor gave away that Jeffrey left the kitchen and headed to the bedroom Vik was sleeping in.

Anton waited a few minutes, found a lighter in one of the drawers and walked past the bedroom, towards the exit. 

He noticed through the half-open door that Jeff was half-lying in the chair right next to Viktor’s bed, looking at him absently. He was holding his hand, brushing his thumb over Viktor’s knuckles.

 

For Viktor, Anton was no one but an enemy. They might have respected each other, and continue their little chase for longer than necessary just for the sake of the hunt, but in the end, they would always be there, pointing guns at each other.  


For Jeffrey, Anton was a mystery, and for his own good, he should remain nothing more. 

The two of them had no one, so now, they were forced to stick together. 

Anton left the apartament, full of hope and sadness.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The tattoo on Jeffrey's back is a reference to Modlisznik's wonderful work which you can find ->[here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909662)<\- 
> 
> This work is somewhat related to WahlBuilder's work (which you can find ->[here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17624462)<-) , with this whole Noir setting and Scythes being Anton's rival gang.  
> (and Viktor being Big Mad that they are not exclusive enemies anymore, therefore ready to tear the Scythes apart). 
> 
> English is not my first language, so don't be afraid to smack me in the head for my mistakes.
> 
> Big hugs and kisses for our Technomancer Discord Group. We've been together for quite some time; such a weird, loving family.


End file.
